


A Likely Story

by intrajanelle



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: A Whole Fic Where Shiro Is Happy, A look at why the publishing industry is bananas, Book Heists, But mostly fluff, Gen, M/M, Nail Painting, Shiro's friends taking care of him, Trans Shiro (Voltron)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-01
Updated: 2018-06-26
Packaged: 2019-05-16 21:15:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14819016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/intrajanelle/pseuds/intrajanelle
Summary: Takashi Shirogane is the manager of a small independent bookstore at Space Mall. The only way for them to stay in business in the face of a new chain bookstore, Zarkon & Rule, is the midnight premiere of the seventh and final Heroes of Voltron book. Now. If only they could find the books.Welcome to the longest week of Shiro’s life.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I could not have written this without the support of my beta reader/consistent supply of book-related puns/and person who named this fic for me: Jo. And also the cheering and enthusiasm of Heather. You both wanted this before I did! I hope you enjoy it, its for you. :D
> 
> I wrote this because I was sitting on my couch a couple weeks ago and I told Jo I just wanted a fic where Shiro is happy in Space Mall. Then my days working at Barnes & Noble and my years working for a publisher came to bite me and this became a purge of retail woes and publishing industry failures. I have 3/5 chapters of this written, so, hopefully I will finish this soon! I hope you enjoy.

For as long as Shiro could remember, he wanted to be a pilot. Now, at the tender age of twenty, it seemed circling the Space Mall parking lot in his hover car for twenty-five minutes was the closest he was ever going to get.

“You’re late,” Lance said, once Shiro arrived at The Castle.

Lance had his feet up on the counter, a Vogue in his hands, and was smacking his gum between his teeth like it had offended him. The store was empty, on Sundays either people barged in at nine a.m. on the dot or no one showed until noon. Without any customers, Shiro didn’t see the point in telling Lance to put his feet down or do some inventory or attempt to appear as if he cared about his job. They both knew he was just working here until Space Sephora had an opening. 

Out of habit, Shiro straightened the display by the register. Ten separate titles for Space Queer Pride were arranged artfully. Lance had helped by dumping rainbow glitter over the display’s sign.

“Did you let USPS in? Are the books here?” Shiro asked, forgoing an obvious explanation of where he’d been this morning. If Lance had looked up at any point, through the glass sunroof of The Castle, to the K’Nex nightmare that was the Space Mall Parking Lot, he’d already seen Shiro’s entire trek circling around and around from his cushioned seat at the counter. Shiro should really take the bus in with Lance.

“They’re in the back,” Lance said, going back to his magazine. 

Shiro breathed a sigh of immense relief and went to inspect the shipment. For months, all anyone could talk about were these Heroes of Voltron books. There were six of them out already and the ones currently sitting in a mountain of boxes in the loading room of The Castle were the seventh and last book in the series. Despite the fact that Shiro had plastered dozens of posters around the store with the on sale date, he and Lance had fielded hundreds of customer questions about when the release was and when the store would be open. 

Despite the fact that, like every year since the third book had come out, they would be open at midnight the Friday of the release. As always. 

Even though this meant that in less than a week Shiro, Lance, and The Castle’s owners Allura and Coran, would be working for nearly twenty hours in a row, prepping and selling the books, Shiro was relieved they were here. The shipment had been cutting it close. And even though the customers would be even rowdier now, as if sensing the books were no longer a concept and were only separated from them by a flimsy uninsulated mall storage room, Shiro knew their presence alone would ease Allura’s mind about their profits this year.

Ever since Zarkon & Rule opened just outside the mall, their revenue had been looking grim.

“Shiro!  _ Your friend _ is here!” Lance yelled from the front.

Shiro, just having slashed open a box to begin inspecting the product, put his knife down with a sigh. What now.

+

By the register was Keith. His arms were crossed over his chest and he was tapping one of his combat boots aggressively. Shiro could practically see a vein at his temple throbbing. Lance was the picture of disinterest. He was reading his magazine again, blowing a large bubble with his wad of gum. 

“What’s up Keith?” Shiro asked, sad that he was even playing their game.

“Nothing,” Keith said, still glaring at Lance. “I didn’t come to bother you, I came so  _ he  _ would apologize,” he jabbed a finger at the counter.

“Guys,” Shiro said. “I really don’t have time—”

“I’m sorry,” Lance said, looking over at Shiro. “I wasn’t aware I was acquainted with your friend Shiro. What’s his name again?”

“God, why’re you being so dramatic—”

“ _ I’m _ dramatic?” Lance said, whacking his magazine onto the counter. “Just last night you told me you would literally throw yourself into a wormhole if it meant they’d shortlist you for the limited edition Blade of Marmora letter opener.”

Keith’s entire face flushed. “I told you that in confidence—”

“And then I told you my life’s dream in confidence and you laughed in my face!” Lance protested. He was holding himself above the counter, his face pressing closer to Keith’s face with every shouted word.

“I didn’t know you were serious!”

“That’s even worse!”

At this point they were both breathing heavily, red in the face, their mouths practically squished together. Which Shiro thought might speed this apology along. He wondered how to best extricate himself from the room, but just as he took a step backwards Keith and Lance whirled on him.

“Well?!” They both shouted at him.

“Well what?” Shiro asked. He was still thinking about the thirty boxes of Heroes of Voltron books in the back he had to open and inspect and hide from unsuspecting customers. He really didn’t have time to be involved in his friend’s love lives. 

Although, this was an odd predicament. Ever since Keith and Lance started dating, their tendency to snipe at each other hadn’t been anything more than foreplay. Which Shiro had found mildly tiresome until presented with this unpleasant alternative.

They were both still staring at him like he’d descended from the ceiling in a halo to preside over and judge their argument. 

“I wasn’t there, so, I don’t know what happened, but Keith if you laughed at Lance you should apologize,” Shiro said.

“I did!” Keith said. He threw his hands up in the air and Lance had to back behind the counter to not get smacked in the head. “I’ve been apologizing since I did it, he won’t listen. Tell him to listen to me.”

“Lance—” Shiro started.

“You still think it's dumb,” Lance said. He was back on his stool, arms and legs crossed, pointedly looking at the cash register so he didn’t have to look Keith in the eye. “No matter how many times you apologize I know you don’t mean it. You still think I can’t do it.”

“It’s not that I think you can’t do it,” Keith said, his voice rough but several decibels softer. “It’s—”

“Kogane.”

Keith whipped to look at the entrance of the store, where his manager had just appeared. “Kolivan, I’m sorry, I was just coming back.”

Kolivan looked around at the scene he’d just interrupted. He must have seen Keith flustered, Lance staring sulkily at the wall, and Shiro caught mid-backing away. All of them, by proximity alone, covered in the rainbow glitter from the Space Queer Pride display. The confusion was apparent on his face.

“There’s a customer on the phone for you. Did I interrupt something?” Kolivan asked. 

“No,” Keith said firmly, brushing past Kolivan. He strode straight across to the Marmora pop-up booth, only about twenty feet from The Castle’s entrance and in full view of the cash register. He pulled the privacy curtain tight around the booth’s small private office. Presumably to answer the phone.

After a moment, Kolivan went after him scratching his head.

From underneath the counter Lance pulled out his box of nail polish and bag of manicure supplies. He dunked a cotton ball in the nail polish remover and started scrubbing away the chipped fuschia polish he’d applied last Sunday.

“You want to talk about it?” Shiro asked, pulling their other stool behind the register. The boxes could wait thirty more minutes.

“No,” Lance said, then, after a moment, “You can do my left hand though.”

Shiro nodded in agreement.

Three coats, two customers, and twenty minutes later, Lance was finishing his top coat off with rainbow glitter. He sprinkled some on his pinky with a severe lack of enthusiasm.

“So, last night Keith and I were canoodling and—”

“Canoodling?” Shiro said, raising an eyebrow. 

“Caressing? Bonking? Fornicating?” Lance said. “Any of those ring a bell?”

“Why can’t you just say sex like a normal person,” Shiro asked. 

“ _ Anyways _ , last night Keith and I were  _ making love _ and we started sharing stuff. We usually talk, after. So I told him what I want to do after I get my Cosmetology degree and he laughed.” Lance shoved his nail polishes back under the counter with unnecessary force. “I bared my soul to him and he laughed in my face, he didn’t even seem to feel bad about it.”

“Could there have been a misunderstanding?” Shiro asked.

“I don’t know how,” Lance said. “I said ‘When I finish my Cosmetology degree I want to take my pilot’s certification’ and I was gonna tell him I wanted to take it with him, when he takes his in the fall. Then we can go to the Academy together, maybe be on the same squad.”

Lance sighed, he looked so downtrodden that his neon blue nail polish seemed out of place. Shiro was surprised he hadn’t gone for purple, he usually painted his nails purple when he was upset.

“I think that’s a great idea, Lance,” Shiro said, taking the manicure supply bag and putting it back gently before Lance could take out his ire on it. “I don’t think Keith would have laughed if he knew how important it was to you. I’m sure he’s misunderstanding something. When he comes back you should take a break and talk it out.”

“Yeah,” Lance said. “Thanks, Shiro. I’m sorry I side-tracked you this morning. Weren’t you supposed to be unloading the Heroes of Voltron shipment?”

“Heroes of Voltron?!” a customer by the front nearly yelled. “It’s out?”

Shiro and Lance shared a commiserating look, before politely bringing the customer’s attention to the many conveniently displayed Heroes of Voltron posters.

Shiro didn’t make it to the back room until nearly noon. By the time he did Allura was there. He hadn’t even seen her enter the store as he’d been distracted by an influx of tourists looking for the Make Way For Kaltenecker picture book.

“Afternoon, Shiro,” Allura said. She was wearing her pilots uniform, so she’d likely come straight from training, and had her reading glasses perched on the tip of her nose. The clipboard in her hands had the invoices for the Heroes of Voltron shipment that he’d been about to compare to the shipment from that morning.

“How was training?” Shiro asked. 

“Oh, fine, as always. We could really use you up there,” she said, distractedly. Then, when she realized what she’d said, she looked up flustered. “Not that I— I do understand. You should take your time about it.”

Shiro laughed a little. He found the box he’d cut open that morning and began unpacking the bubble wrap. “It’s fine. I do want to go back eventually, that’s the plan. First, though, we’ll have to get through one last midnight premiere of—”

Shiro looked down at the book he’d pulled from the box. The book in his hand. The book that was not Heroes of Voltron: The Deathly Quintessence. But was Slav’s Brief History of Paranoia. 

Maybe it was just that box. 

+

It was every single box. Thirty cartons of Slav’s Brief History of Paranoia. Nearly 300 of the wrong book, a book that had been in circulation for over two decaphebes, that no 300 people in the galaxy let alone the Space Mall were interested in purchasing on Friday at midnight.

Allura had been on the phone with the publisher in her office for an hour, every few minutes Shiro heard her voice raise in exclamation and then resume a forebodingly quiet murmur.

“Can’t USPS just take them back and bring us the right books?” Lance asked, for the tenth time.

“Not fast enough,” Shiro said. “Typically when we order books they ship to us in five to seven business days. We definitely wouldn’t get them in time for Friday.”

“But they made a mistake,” Lance said. “They should expedite the shipping.”

“They won’t,” Allura said, emerging from her office. “They claim they did ship us 30 cartons of the new Heroes of Voltron book.”

Shiro and Lance exchanged a look over a copy of Slav’s Brief History of Paranoia. 

“Uh. Did you send them a picture?” Lance said. “This is very clearly the wrong book.”

“They claim, that stores across this quadrant have been receiving pre packaged boxes of Heroes of Voltron and then calling and claiming they received the wrong book to get additional copies of Heroes of Voltron free of charge.” Allura collapsed into one of the reading chairs Lance had arranged in a cozy circle by the Young Adult books. “They won’t refund or reship any books until after the premiere.”

Shiro felt a strong urge to throw Slav’s book across the room, straight at the smirking face of Sven, holding his bayard aloft in one of the Heroes of Voltron posters. Sven didn’t have these kinds of problems. Sven just galavanted around the galaxy saving princesses from the evil Daibazaal. He knew nothing about the horrors of capitalism or retail. 

“But that doesn’t make any sense,” Lance said. “We paid for 30 cartons of Heroes of Voltron. We didn’t receive them. They should just send us the right books! They have to be waiting for us somewhere. Maybe we can get them ourselves.”

“They said they’re in the mall,” Allura said. “But they’re not here.”

She banged her head on the back of the reading chair, defeating the purpose of its comfiness.

“USPS delivered to everyone in the mall this morning right?” Shiro said. “It’s Sunday. Everyone got their stock for the week.”

“Right,” Allura said, lifting her head to look at him.

“Maybe they just got sent to the wrong store,” Shiro said. “Lance and I can walk around and see if anyone signed for them.”

“We can?” Lance asked, glancing not so subtly across the way to the Marmora pop up shop.

Shiro sighed. “Hunk can come with us, if he’s free.”

Lance brightened, already whipping out his phone. If Hunk wasn’t on shift at Vrepit Sal’s, Shiro had no doubt he’d been hanging around the Balmera Rock Candy Store bugging Shay while she was on shift. Which meant he’d be here any minute.

“I’ll ask around as well, it will be easier if we each do a floor,” Allura said, levering herself from her chair. 

“Then who’s gonna watch the store?” Lance asked, shoving his phone back in his jacket. 

Allura made a dismissing wave at him with one hand, while typing something on her phone. As realization dawned on Shiro, he fought not to put his head in his hands and say goodbye to his organized, minimalist, quiet storefront. 

“Allura,” Shiro said, fighting not to sound overbearing. He didn’t want to tell her what to do, she was one of the owners after all. But this seemed ill-advised. “Remember last time.”

She just waved her hand at him too, unabashed because last time she hadn’t had to peel sale stickers off half their stock. Shiro and Lance had.

“It will be fine for a couple of hours. Besides, he’s almost here.”

“Heroes of Voltron is almost here?” a customer asked, popping their head out from behind the Harlequin section.

Lance directed the customer towards a poster.

Shiro looked up and sure enough, he could already see a neon red sports hover car speeding towards the Space Mall parking lot at an unusual speed. Alfor was almost here.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still couldn't have written this without the help of Jo (beta reader, shoulder to cry on) or Heather (well of endless support).
> 
> Jo made an amazing, spectacular, show stopping, incredible, one of a kind playlist for this fic! Check it out:
> 
> (https://open.spotify.com/user/1qojykniizpty39f93vtb58ep/playlist/5RzmzA8WiHZQWtg1sFnZSC?si=iBi1INhpSaWkAMWceXHQQw)

“I don’t know why you’re so bummed about this. Alfor is the best!” Lance said. “Right Hunk?”

The three of them were currently in the Unilu Swap Shop, waiting for the owner to check his inventory in the back for their missing books. Shiro was trying his best not to look bummed. It wasn’t that he disliked Alfor, it was that Alfor was a lot of work cleaning up after, work that Shiro did not have time for this week. He had finally managed to arrange the Fiction section in a way that was equal amounts organized and approachable.

Hunk was currently tearing apart his Balmera cotton candy into little pieces and rolling them between his fingers until they were condensed cotton candy balls before eating them. He frowned a little as he chewed.

“I think I’m with Shiro on this one, buddy,” Hunk said. “Last time Alfor was here, he had the entire mall convinced The Castle was holding a going out of business sale. Everything in your store was half off and buy one get two free.”

“We sold so many books though,” Lance said, crossing his arms.

“We gave away so many books,” Shiro said. “For free.”

“But, Alfor used to own The Castle before Allura. He’s her dad! He must know how to keep it in business,” Lance insisted.

“I don’t know, Allura told me he sold the shop to her and Coran once he had enough to buy his sports hover car. So, about three months,” Hunk said. He reached for more candy before realizing he’d eaten it all, then pouted at the empty cotton candy stick. “Should we get lunch soon? We’ve been at this for hours.”

“We’ve only been to, like, three stores,” Lance said. But was overruled by the loud groan his own stomach emitted.

“Vrepit Sal’s?” Hunk asked.

“Vrepit Sal’s,” Lance agreed.

“Alright, text me when you’re done and we can meet up again,” Shiro said, intending to continue circling the mall in their absence. The process was taking considerably longer than he’d imagined, because explaining to the owner’s why he needed to look at their stock was eliciting way more suspicion and glaring than Shiro thought his request warranted.

“No, no, no,” Lance said. He took one of Shiro’s arms, Hunk took the other. “Even tall, capable, beefcakes like you need food. We’re getting lunch, you can bother the stores in the food court while you eat if it will make you feel better.”

It would, Shiro knew, so he allowed Hunk and Lance to drag him along. If he hadn’t wanted to be dragged he could always have unfastened his prosthetic arm and ran while his friends were stunned. That always seemed to work.

Twenty minutes later found Shiro waving a veggie burrito Hunk had made for him in Sal’s face.

“I don’t want to steal your cabbages,” Shiro said, slowly, so Sal could wrap his brain around it. “I want to take a look at your morning shipment to see if our stock got confused with yours. You can even do it, I’ll wait here.”

Sal watched him, arms stubbornly crossed, jaw clicking as he worked it back and forth.

“I’m not a damned fool and you aren’t getting your hands on my food,” Sal said.

Shiro felt a little like he was banging his head against a brick wall.

“Shiro, buddy, why don’t you go sit down.” Hunk, angel that he was, grabbed Shiro’s shoulders and directed him to sit next to Lance at Vrepit Sal’s counter.

Lance patted his back consolingly while Hunk snuck out back to check the shipment himself.

“What are you guys doing here?”

Shiro turned to see Pidge leaning against the counter beside him. They looked like they hadn’t slept in a week, laptop hanging loosely from their fingers. Shiro passed them the rest of his burrito and a bottle of water.

Pidge didn’t work at Space Mall, but they were always there. Sometimes they curled up in one of the reading chairs in The Castle and messed around on their laptop for a few hours. Sometimes Shiro would see them at the Unilu Swap Shop arguing over the price of tech parts. Sometimes Pidge was even shopping for something that didn’t have to do with their computer, but that always seemed to be because Matt had harassed them about it. Shiro wasn’t sure which Master’s Degree Pidge was always chipping away at, but it wasn’t their first.

“Don’t tell anyone, but we’re on a top secret mission to find 30 missing cartons of Heroes of Voltron,” Lance said, at a normal volume, with no attempt to appear inconspicuous whatsoever.

Shiro sighed.

“Oh, I knew that,” Pidge said, “half the mall is talking about it.”

Lance wrinkled his nose, a dollop of guacamole fell off his burrito and onto the counter. “Then why did you ask?”

“Because I figured you guys would be trying to rein in Alfor by now,” Pidge said, taking a bite of the burrito. Their face contorted into something that might have been rapture, if they had slept in the last two days.

“What do you mean, rein in Alfor?” Shiro asked, with a growing sense of doom.

“Well. Here you are, trying to find your missing books. While Alfor’s upstairs selling tickets to the book premiere.”

“Tickets?” Shiro said, standing abruptly.

“Tickets,” Pidge confirmed, eating the rest of the burrito in one large bite.

“They aren’t out back guys— Hey, what’s wrong?” Hunk asked.

But Shiro and Lance were already sprinting across the food court, shrieks and startled Unilu in their wake.

+

Even though they had been gone only four hours, their once simple, quiet storefront was covered in Sale signs.

“BLOWOUT SALE,” the signs claimed.

“AMAZING BARGAINS,” they chanted.

“50% OFF EVERYTHING YOUR EYES CAN SEE.”

The signs hung from the The Castle sign, they hung from the ceiling, they were pasted to the windows and propped against the shelves.

There was a line of customers stretching all the way down to the Marmora pop up shop, where Keith was standing behind the counter. He kept looking at his phone like he couldn’t decide whether or not to use it. Then, when he spotted them, he vaulted over the counter and sprinted over.

“I tried to stop him, Shiro,” he said, while looking mostly at Lance. “I don’t even know where he got the signs. And when I tried to tell him to knock it off he waved his Blades of Marmora Gold Subscriber card in my face and told me to go away. You know I can’t say no to a Gold member.”

The look of glee that transformed Lance’s face would have made Shiro laugh in any other predicament but this particular one.

“Don’t,” Keith said, sticking his finger in Lance’s face. “I know what I said. I know I shouldn’t have said it. Just. Don’t.”

Lance knocked Keith’s hand aside and began wading through customers into The Castle.

“I didn’t say anything!” Lance said. He held his phone aloft in one hand and flipped Keith off with the other. “Luckily I have recorded this moment for posterity!”

“Delete that!” Keith yelled, wading after him.

Shiro took a deep breath and followed them into the hoard.

+

Alfor was sitting on the counter next to the cash register, handing an elderly Unilu a raffle ticket.

“There you go! And your change, ma’am, are you sure you don’t want to leave a penny?” Alfor said. The woman clutched her change in her fist and spun away with a huff.

The next person in line approached the register.

“Hello zir, how many tickets would you like? It’s three for one, one book per ticket. The VIP section is almost sold out!”

The customer started speaking in a Balmeran dialect that Shiro didn’t recognize. Alfor, however, seemed to have no problem interpreting.

“Twelve tickets it is,” he said.

“Alfor,” Shiro said, shoving past Keith and Lance. They had pushed towards the front of the line and were wrestling over Lance’s phone.

“Shiro, my boy! You’ve done such a wonderful job with the place since I’ve last been here. I could eat off this counter,” Alfor said.

Shiro could see that he already had, a sub from Vrepit Sal’s peeked around the cash register.

“Alfor, could we speak in the office for a minute?” Shiro asked. “Lance and Keith can watch the store.”

“I don’t work here,” Keith pointed out.

“Yes, we know, not enough sharp objects for your tastes, just stand behind the counter and look pretty,” Lance said, dragging Keith to a stool.

As he led Alfor to the office, Shiro could hear Lance saying, “Yes, of course I still think you look pretty you infuriating coat hanger.”

Once in Allura’s office with the door closed firmly behind them, Shiro wasn’t sure how to start. Technically, Shiro outranked Alfor. He was the General Manager. Alfor didn’t even work here. Sure, he was the one to originally buy The Castle. But Allura was the one that had helped it succeed. She’d brought Coran on, redecorated, remarketed, and worked tirelessly to get loyal customers. She did outreach to local and touring authors to publicize her author events program, traveled to get The Castle’s stock signed, used social media to promote sales. All Alfor had done was invest in a store to bank off his glory days as a renowned pilot and then ditch the moment he’d raised enough money for his vintage Red Lion 1023.

Currently Alfor was playing with the Rubik’s Cube on Allura’s desk. She’d solved it a few weeks ago and somehow he’d already completely mixed the sides together.

“What did you want to talk about? I have been on fire this afternoon, should probably get back out there and finish making bomb sales!”

“You were selling bombs?” Shiro asked in a panic.

“Pssh, of course not,” Alfor said, leaning precariously backwards in Allura’s chair. “That’s just what the kids are saying these days right? Bomb, crack-a-lacking, Konkey Dong. I’ve been using my retirement to work on my vernacular.”

Once upon a time, Shiro had looked up to Alfor. He had been the fastest pilot in the galaxy. Handsome, passionate, charismatic, and clever. He’d used his fame to open charities and give interviews about education. Shiro, as a young, orphaned child, with only a weird twin brother and a budding friendship with classmate Keith Kogane had thought if only Alfor was  _ his  _ father his life would be an endless adventure.

Ever since he’d met Allura he’d known he’d been wrong about that.

Alfor was also flighty, forgetful, neglectful, and inconsiderate. He was a perfect figurehead and a decent friend, but a poor father and a worse businessman. Thankfully, though, he was easily distractible.

“Speaking of learning things, Alfor. There’s a job I think only you can help us with,” Shiro said, crossing his arms solemnly across his chest.

+

By the time Shiro returned to the front of the store, Lance had managed to not only put an end to the ticket line and disperse the long line of customers, but also to cajole Keith into helping take down the sale posters.

He was so getting a raise.

“Where’s Alfor?” Lance asked, warily. He had a torn Heroes of Voltron poster in his hands, a casualty of a blowout sale sign taped too close for comfort.

“I, uh, locked him in the office?” Shiro said. It sounded like a question, but he had, in fact, locked his boss’ father in her office. With a foot tall stack of expired invoices that Lance had scanned and electronically uploaded to their store database a month ago, to fruitlessly physically file into their empty filing cabinets.

After explaining this, Lance looked at Shiro like he couldn’t decide if he wanted to high-five him or question his authority.

“So that’s handled, then,” Keith said, ever the voice of reason. He had a stack of ripped signs in his arms. He was frowning at Shiro. “You’ve been running around the mall all day? Have you replaced your T patch?”

“Sure,” Shiro said, a little distracted by the sheer amount of stores they still had to comb for their books. He was clocking his mental checklist, while watching the literal clock to calculate how much time they had before the mall closed.

“Did he?” Keith was asking Lance.

“I didn’t see him do it,” Lance said. “He hasn’t even taken a bathroom break.” Then, he whispered, conspiratorially, “He hasn’t had any prosthetic downtime either, he’s probably chafing.”

Preoccupied and doing math, which was always painful, Shiro barely noticed as Keith and Lance each grabbed one of his arms and dragged him to a stool. He only really became aware of what was happening, when Keith, clearly having rifled around in his backpack, pulled back his sleeve to reveal his clearly day old testosterone patch and began removing and applying a new one.

That was fine, that was probably for the best. He was over an hour late for his dose anyways.

“Hey, do you want me to,” Lance gestured towards Shiro’s right arm. The metal of the prosthetic gleamed in the flourescent lights of the store, it made the panels look like flowing water.

Despite it being one of the newest and most advanced models yet, Shiro’s prosthetic did tend to chafe his shoulder after a long day. He usually had a break during lunch and while he was home. This kept everything from getting swollen or uncomfortable. Today, though, Shiro wasn’t sure he had time.

“We have twenty-four stores left and only an hour and forty-five minutes until the mall closes,” Shiro explained, “maybe if we split up we can manage, but I don’t really have time for,” he mimed taking his prosthetic off and then sitting back and relaxing.

“You can spare fifteen minutes,” Lance said, resolutely. “Do you want me to help?”

Keith nodded in agreement, finishing by slapping the new patch so it would stick extra firmly and pulling Shiro’s sleeve back into place.

“Fifteen minutes or I’m calling your brother,” Keith said.

Shiro sighed, fifteen minutes it was.

He sat back in his stool, feet up on the counter, while Keith and Lance bickered about what to do with the signs. He closed his eyes and tried to not calculate every minute and second slowly trickling away until the Heroes of Voltron premiere.


	3. Chapter 3

When Shiro was ten, he’d met Keith Kogane for the first time in their after school program. Shiro’s orphanage didn’t pick up their kids from school until just before dinner and his twin brother went to a school for gifted students, which left Shiro largely alone during the day. Keith’s mom was a bigshot salesperson for the Blade of Marmora. This meant the both of them had at least three hours a day between school and when their respective guardians picked them up, to get to know one another.

 

Shiro met Keith because one of those quiet afternoons, Keith stabbed him.

 

It was an accident. Keith had just managed to talk his mother into letting him become a Blade of Marmora monthly subscriber. His first subscription knife was a long curved blade of dark gray Galran steel with an embossed leather handle. Keith’s mother, Krolia, while irresponsible enough to sign an eight year old up for a monthly knife club, had discussed many caveats about this agreement with her son. One of which was, obviously, not allowing Keith to bring them to school. Keith Kogane rarely listened to his mother. He had only just started living with her, having been transferred into her custody when his father went missing. 

 

He was resentful, skeptical, and eight years old. Which meant he brought the knife to school. He just wanted to look at it throughout the day. Occasionally he’d go to the bathroom and admire the way it gleamed under the unflattering school lights. In Literature, his worst subject, he kept it in his desk and fondled it when a question was particularly confusing. 

 

All innocent activities aside. Keith should not have brought a knife to school. A lesson he learned acutely when, during their afterschool program, Shiro tripped over his own backpack only to land on Keith’s. Which sent Keith’s brand new knife right through the side of his backpack and directly through the palm of Shiro’s prosthetic hand.

 

Keith, not knowing it was a prosthetic, immediately burst into tears.

 

Shiro, who was on the verge of tears himself, realized after a moment of shock that the knife had slid between the plastic plates of his knuckles. He slid it out easily and threw his own bag over it. When a teacher came rushing over to see what was wrong, Shiro assured them that everything was fine. Shiro had just tripped and stepped on Keith’s foot.

 

When they were finally alone and Keith’s sobs had ebbed to the occasional startled hiccup, Shiro made Keith promise never to bring his knife to school again. He didn’t. They’d been best friends ever since.

 

This held true on the Monday of the week of the Heroes of Voltron premiere. Shiro, having sprinted from store to store before the mall closed the night before and still turned up with no books, had spent the night pacing the apartment he shared with his brother and trying to brainstorm the best solutions.

 

They couldn’t even cancel the premiere, was the worst part. The tickets Alfor had sold for the event were nonrefundable because, for reasons that baffled Shiro, he hadn’t used the store’s register, had accepted only cash for his sales, and had issued zero receipts. For an unknown but large amount of tickets. So while they were sitting on quite an impressive pile of cash for the event already, they had no books, no list of guests, no way to cancel the proceedings without accidentally refunding the wrong amounts to the wrong people, and no solution whatsoever.

 

So Shiro paced.

 

And Monday morning Keith brought Shiro a Venti Red Eye with extra vanilla and whipped cream. Shiro should make friends with everyone who stabbed him. He told Keith this and Keith slapped his shoulder, then he unsubtly left a Caramel Mocha right by Lance’s cash register and went to his own place of work.

 

When Allura arrived twenty minutes later she looked like she’d driven there with the windows of her hover car down. Which was impossible, because, they were in space. She also had Coran hanging off one of her arms, but not for long.

 

“Shiro, my boy, is it true? Are we royally quiznakked?” Coran asked. He was busying himself already by straightening a display. Shiro kind of loved Coran.

 

“It does seem that way,” Shiro said. “But we’ll figure it out.”

 

He shared a grimace with Allura. When she’d returned last night, also unsuccessful, they had agreed to go home and reconvene in the morning after a good night’s rest. It seemed neither of them had listened to this suggestion. At least Coran was here now. He’d been at a Book Expo until last night which was why Allura had called Alfor in the first place.

 

It was at this very moment that Shiro realized Alfor was still locked in Allura’s office.

 

Correctly interpreting his panicked jerk in the direction of the back room through sleep deprivation and sheer force of will, Allura began waving her hands. 

 

“Don’t worry I found him in there and sent him home,” Allura said. “Honestly, I had no idea my father would pull such a stunt. I’ve been stewing about it all night.”

 

“I’m sure he had his reasons,” Coran said. He’d produced a broom from somewhere and was sweeping up glitter and stray cardboard and tape.

 

Shiro respected and cared for both of them but their threshold for Alfor’s nonsense sometimes made him want to scream.

 

Meanwhile, Lance arrived in a haze of cologne which meant he hadn’t slept either. He squinted at the Caramel Mocha conspicuously on the counter, then looked around at their little group. Shiro, almost done with his venti monstrosity, Allura, windswept, and Coran, furiously cleaning.

 

He took the Caramel Mocha and downed it in three practiced gulps.

 

“So boss-people, what’s the plan?” he asked. The bags under his eyes had been carefully hidden with concealer, but Shiro could tell from years of staring at his face that they were there. There was also still a clump of his morning moisturizer by his hairline. Shiro grabbed a tissue and wiped it away, then gave his hair a tousle. 

 

“I thought we could hit up Zarkon & Rule today, its the only place we haven’t checked,” Shiro said. 

 

It was located just outside the mall, on its own satellite. Rumor was that they couldn’t get the floorspace they’d wanted on the Space Mall moon itself, so had forked over enough money to get the three-story, bookstore slash cafe they’d desired. This meant that the store was beautiful and trendy and had almost every book a customer could ask for, as opposed to The Castle’s space-restricted selection. It also meant that customers would go there, but not first. No one would check out a satellite as their first option when there was a bookstore right in the mall. So The Castle’s profits had taken a hit, but they hadn’t been run out of business quite yet. 

 

“Oh, I forgot to mention,” Allura said. She was busily trying to arrange her hair anywhere but in her face. “I went after work yesterday.”

 

“And?” Shiro asked.

 

“And I didn’t get so far as asking about the books because Lotor wouldn’t stop flirting with me,” Allura said. “It was quite disconcerting, I’d always assumed he loathed me.”

 

Shiro had assumed Lotor loathed everyone, except his brother. Lotor, whose father Zarkon was the eponymous owner of Zarkon & Rule, was a pompous asshole, acting manager of Z&R, and Shiro’s brother’s former classmate and best friend. Which was perplexing on several levels. Sometimes Shiro would come home from a long day at work and find Lotor sprawled on their couch eating their Milky Wheat’s. Which was a bit like struggling to pull yourself back onto the edge of a cliff only for your own brother to shove you to your death.

 

There was an old Terran movie like that Lance had tried to get him to watch once. It was too sad for his tastes.

 

“Was he gross? Did he not listen when you said no? I can go beat him up,” Lance said. He tossed his empty drink aside and began rolling up his sleeves.

 

Shiro caught his collar. The last thing they needed was a sleep-deprived employee beating up the son of their competitor. Mostly because Lotor would probably make mincemeat of Lance and then Keith would murder him. Shiro didn’t have time to hide two bodies.

 

“There won’t be any murder today.” Shiro announced. “We can go over together, if Allura is alright watching the store?”

 

Allura waved a hand at them. “Oh, rubbish. I can watch my own store for an hour. I don’t have flight drills until noon. If Lotor offers either of you a raise to jump ship, I wouldn’t blame you for taking it but know that I will be inconsolable.”

 

“I would never leave you, princess,” Lance said, with his best attempt at a dashing smile. With the lack of sleep, it looked mostly like a grimace.

 

Once on their way to the parking garage, to deprive Shiro of his perfectly nice spot next to the food court entrance so they could drive to Zarkon & Rule’s private lot, Lance turned to him.

 

“So, what’s the game plan? I distract him, you look for the books? You distract him, I look for the books? I know it's Lotor, but I’m not above prostitution,” Lance said.

 

“While you would make a decent prostitute,” Shiro admitted, “I had something else in mind.”

 

+

 

“Takashi,” Lotor crooned, “I’m so glad you’re finally seeing things my way.”

 

Lotor had an arm around his shoulders and was steering him towards the back office. Meanwhile, Lance, who seemed to be attempting his best Keith Scowl, walked just behind them surveying the surrounding store.

 

The store was  _ something _ . There were three floors, the second and third had an open space in the middle to gaze down on the first floor’s extravagant water fountain. The water fountain was a larger than life sculpture of Zarkon himself, with water spraying from his fingertips and trickling down the piles of books at his feet. It made selling books seem more like a conquest than a vocation. 

 

There was also a cafe with a large array of caffeinated beverages and pastries, rows upon rows of shiny bookshelves with a large selection of titles, a toy section, a home goods section, and a Zarkon & Rule signature clothing section. As if Zarkon hadn’t been able to decide which would make him the most money, so had stuffed them all into one store.

 

Shiro, who had just informed Lotor he was thinking about applying for Zarkon & Rule’s open General Manager position in the hopes of getting a tour, was trying his best to seem enthralled. 

 

“That’s a very innovative…cash register,” Shiro said, gesturing to the self-check out booths towards the front of the store.

 

“Aren’t they? We’ve eliminated the need for manual labor in this store by sixty percent. Shame about the cashiers, but our customers love it. No one actually wants to talk to people when they’re making a purchase,” Lotor scoffed.

 

“So what’s your availability for someone like me, transferring,” Lance said, stuffing his hands further in his pockets. He looked like he was doing his best not to spit in Lotor’s face.

 

Lotor squeezed Shiro’s shoulders before releasing him to unlock the door to his office. “Well the bots aren’t sufficient custodians, that’s about the only job we need actual people for here. Part-time and no benefits, of course.”

 

“Then I’d just be managing the custodians?” Shiro asked, confused.

 

“Oh, heaven’s no, the bots break down or error several times a shift. Your job is to fill in for them when they’re having a bad day. Run the register, receive and put books on their shelves, help answer customer questions, barista a little. That kind of thing.”

 

“That’s like, five different jobs,” Shiro said.

 

“Yes, you wouldn’t believe how much money we’re saving!” Lotor said. 

 

He showed them around his office. Which was easily the size of The Castle. He had fancy leather guest chairs and his own spinny desk chair. His multiple diplomas were blown up and framed around the room. There was a large computer that looked unused and miniature golf course desk toy. The nameplate on his desk read “Lofor.”

 

“The company father had it ordered from misprinted it, sadly. He’s been too busy to bother with those kind of things, so it does for now,” Lotor said, ushering them to the back of the store where employee offices, a break room, and shipments were located.

 

The “employee offices” were a hallway with a short row of lockers. It smelled like feet. The break room was a similar situation. Zarkon & Rule had only been open for a couple months but it already looked liked people had lived here and disabused it for thirty years. There were water stains on the ceiling, the carpet was worn thin, and chunks were missing from the chairs foam arm rests. When Shiro wandered too close to the microwave, the whole place smelled like fish.

 

“As you can see, there’s much more space for you here than in The Castle,” Lotor said. “There aren’t even any employee spaces for you there, correct?”

 

Shiro nodded, but privately he thought his labeled coat hook by Allura’s office was better than this blatant neglect.

 

By the time they’d moved on to the store room, Shiro was so repulsed by so many different things he’d nearly forgotten why they were actually there. Nearly.

 

But despite the fact that Shiro wouldn’t put it past Zarkon or Lotor to have a conspicuously placed stack of 30 cartons of Heroes of Voltron that clearly weren’t theirs, the store room was neat and clean and only had a few unopened cartons stacked by the door. Most of their additional stock was unboxed and shelved alphabetically. Even the section for the new Heroes of Voltron title didn’t seem like it contained double the stock they were supposed to receive. It seemed like they had just the right amount of books for a store this size on opening night. 

 

As Lotor was leading them out, Shiro tried not to seem too glum. He put on a smile and asked a few more questions about the store’s processes. 

 

“How many varieties of scone do you sell? Twelve seasonal flavors? That’s amazing.”

 

And:

 

“What’s on the upper levels besides more books? Your mother’s offices and a children’s reading room? What clever floor planning.”

 

Until, finally, Shiro and Lance were standing in the parking lot, both of them slumped over the hood of Shiro’s Black Subaru Telstar.

 

“That man. Is exhausting.” Lance groaned. 

 

“He doesn’t have the books. What are we going to do?” Shiro asked. Mostly he was speaking to Lance, but he wouldn’t turn down suggestions from the ether. 

 

Once they were in the car and headed back to their parking garage, Lance said, “Can’t we just order more books and expedite the shipping? We can figure out how to sell the Slav books after the premiere. We got all that money up-front already.”

 

“We really can’t afford that right now,” Shiro admitted. “The Castle is barely hanging on, as is.”

 

Lance’s jaw tightened. “We’ll have to issue refunds then, consequences be damned. Premiere cancelled. There’s not much else we can do.”

 

“Yeah,” Shiro agreed. Unless, in the hour since they’d been gone, Allura miraculously found a solution to all of their problems. That was the best they could do.

 

+

 

“I have found a solution to most of our problems,” Allura announced, upon their return.

 

She’d taken one look at their resigned faces, appropriately assumed they’d been unsuccessful, and pointed them towards Pidge. Pidge, who was ensconced in a reading chair with their laptop, a 32 oz energy drink, and a pile of invoices.

 

“Pidge is the solution to our problems?” Lance asked. “Pidge wouldn’t even help me with my Calculus homework in high school.”

 

“You did fine in Calculus,” Pidge said, not looking up from their laptop.

 

“No thanks to you!” Lance said.

 

“I was finishing up my first PhD when you were taking that class,” Pidge said.

 

Lance sniffed. “No need to brag.”

 

“ _ Anyways _ ,” Allura said. “Pidge has discovered a peculiarity in the Heroes of Voltron shipments of the last five weeks.”

 

“None of them have been the right books. I have accessed the Vendor Portals for a dozen bookstores in this quadrant. All small stores, all receiving shipments of a hundred cartons of less, all received packages claiming to be the seventh Heroes of Voltron book. Instead, they’ve all been obscure psychology textbooks.”

 

“But how is it possible that the publisher would pack that many cartons incorrectly?” Lance asked.

 

“It’s really not,” Pidge said, glasses flashing as they finally looked up from their laptop. “Someone is intercepting the shipments. Someone named Haggar.”

 

“Haggar?” Shiro almost shouted. “Isn’t that—”

 

“Lotor’s mom?” A new voice said from over Shiro’s shoulder.

 

Shiro turned to see his brother standing behind him with his hands in his pockets. He was wearing Shiro’s leather jacket and a smarmy grin.

 

Lance was looking between the two of them, his eyes bugging out of his head. And Shiro realized suddenly that they’d never really met and the sight of his fairly identical twin might be alarming.

 

“Kuron?” he asked. “What are you doing here?”


	4. Chapter 4

When Shiro left the Academy his former classmate, Allura, offered him a job at The Castle almost immediately. He was seventeen and a hard worker, but had never done anything but take tests and fly planes in his entire life. For some reason, Allura thought this made him a great candidate to be her General Manager.

 

So there Shiro was, first day at work, wearing a fresh nametag, an ironed polo shirt, and a new haircut. And in walked Lance.

 

Lance was fifteen, with curly hair down to his chin, braces and acne. He pulled a magazine from the display and made himself comfortable in one of the spinny stools behind the counter. He was wearing a Killbot Phantasm I t-shirt and hastily cut jean shorts.

 

“Uh, hi,” Shiro said. He hadn’t met the employees before he started, he’d just finished a flight last Friday and started at The Castle bright and early Monday. Allura wasn’t even in yet, she’d just texted what to do when he arrived that morning. “I’m Shiro, I’m your new manager.”

 

He extended a hand to Lance to shake. Lance narrowed his eyes at him.

 

“You’re too hot to work in a bookstore,” Lance announced. “Are you a nark?”

 

Shiro laughed.

 

“No, I went to the Academy with Allura though.”

 

Lance nodded sagely. “That explains it, all of Allura’s friends are weirdly attractive.”

 

He finally took Shiro’s hand and shook it carefully.

 

“So, why’d you leave the Academy?” Lance asked.

 

Shiro shrugged. “I was abducted by a rogue militia and forced to be a gladiator until my team rescued me. How’d you think I got this,” he waved his prosthetic in Lance’s face.

 

Lance’s eyes bugged out of his head. His magazine slipped out of his hands, forgotten.

 

“Kidding, I was born without this,” Shiro said, giving Lance a wink. “Had you going there, though, didn’t I?”

 

Lance, who had flushed from the collar of his shirt to his hairline, retrieved his fallen magazine and swatted Shiro with it. When a customer arrived fifteen minutes later, Lance showed Shiro how to use the cash register and their book directory. By the time Allura appeared she was out of breath, streaming apologies about her lateness. Apparently the parking lot was a bitch to park in, Shiro was grateful he’d taken the bus. 

 

“I’m so sorry I left you on your own, were there any troublesome customers?” Allura asked. She was taking her coat off and replacing it with a The Castle apron, that she preferred to wear while doing inventory.

 

“There might have been, but Lance showed me the ropes,” Shiro said, stepping aside so Allura could see Lance. 

 

He was, oddly, hiding behind Shiro, his entire face red.

 

“Lance!” Allura said. “How many time have I told you, you don’t work here!”

 

“You don’t?” Shiro asked. 

 

“I basically do,” Lance said.

 

“He doesn’t,” Allura confirmed.

 

“Oh,” Shiro said. “Maybe he should?”

 

And, so, as his first act as General Manager Shiro hired Lance as his Senior Bookseller. The rest would have been history, but, two months later Keith got his dream job at the Blade of Marmora pop-up shop. That’s when the real story started.

 

+

 

Shiro was thinking about all of this as Lance looked between Shiro and Kuron in mounting confusion.

 

Kuron, who’d been about to answer Shiro’s question, was cut off by Lance’s: “Is this your clone?!”

 

“No, it’s my brother,” Shiro said, sheepishly. “I forgot you haven’t officially met. Lance this is Kuron.”

 

“When you said brother, you didn’t say your mirror image twin,” Lance said, shaking his head and then Kuron’s outstretched hand. “It’s nice to meet you. What did you mean by ‘officially’ met?”

 

Shiro winced. “Remember that week last summer, you said I was being a ‘weirdly aloof asshole’?”

 

Lance nodded. Then his eyes widened, then he was pointing at Kuron, finger shaking. 

 

“That was you?!” Lance nearly shrieked.

 

“I had the flu,” Shiro said.

 

“I had fun,” Kuron said, his smarmy grin returning as he leaned closer to Lance. “Didn’t you?”

 

Lance was very red. His hands were covering his face. Shiro wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

 

“Well, now you and Keith are together? At least?” Shiro said, trying to placate him. 

 

Lance did not reply. He was slowly backing away from them as if he could evaporate into the bookshelves behind them.

 

“Anyways,” Shiro said, attempting to give Lance a break. He turned to Kuron. “Why are you here, again?”

 

“You forgot your T on the bathroom sink,” Kuron said, handing him his medical bag. 

 

“Oh, thanks,” Shiro said. He’d known he was forgetting something this morning. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Allura leaning in curiously. He loved Allura, but he did not want another awkward conversation about why humans couldn’t shape shift to alter their gender according to their preferences like Alteans could.

 

So he attempted to steer the conversation back to Pidge, who was still typing away on their laptop like nothing had happened in the past ten minutes.

 

“What were you saying about Lotor’s mom?” 

 

“That she is intercepting the Heroes of Voltron shipments, replacing them with worthless psychology textbooks, and funnelling the real books to Zarkon & Rule locations,” Pidge said.

 

When this announcement was met with silence, Pidge looked up for the first time. They pushed their glasses up the bridge of their nose.

 

“Is that really surprising?” Pidge asked.

 

“No.” Shiro sighed.

 

“Yes!” Kuron said.

 

“But you got a tour of Zarkon & Rule,” Allura said. “The books weren’t there.”

 

“Haggar’s office,” Lance said. He was still leaning against the bookshelves and looked a little gray. But he managed to look Shiro in the eye. “It was one of the only rooms Lotor didn’t show us, it was on the third floor, that’s probably where she’s hiding the books.”

 

This was met by a brittle silence, occasionally broken by the tapping of Pidge at their laptop and Shiro’s metal fingers against the counter.

 

“You’re gonna have to steal them back,” Kuron said. 

 

The sudden chorus of ‘No’s!’ forced Kuron to hold his hands up defensively. 

 

His metal arm matched Shiro’s identically, but he’d had several Galra warrior symbols etched to his upper bicep. They shifted into and out of the plates when he raised and lowered and flexed his arm, always appearing a bit different than before. With Shiro’s jacket on, though, they could have been carbon copies of one another. So it was weird seeing all of his friend’s turn on himself.

 

Allura was shouting something about the Galra. Lance was waving his arms, which wasn’t a great indicator of his mood as he was constantly moving, but he seemed more flustered than normal. Coran was gesturing with his broom, he swept it in a wide arc, seemingly to prove a point, and Pidge would have been whacked in the face if they hadn’t ducked.

 

Everyone had some version of why stealing was bad and they couldn’t just take the books from Zarkon & Rule without going to jail, or being flung by Haggar into the unforgiving vacuum of space, or, going through with a book heist and even then not finding the books. But as the protests increased in frequency and pitch, Shiro found himself with a plan.

 

“Kuron, watch the store,” Shiro ordered as he ushered his coworkers and Pidge into Allura’s small but private office.

 

Once the door was closed behind them, Shiro made his proposal.

 

At first Allura stared at him unblinking, as if wondering if he’d been abducted and cloned when she hadn’t been looking. 

 

Since this plan involved the most consent from Lance, Shiro watched him closely. He was merely nodding with a finger on his chin.

 

After a moment, he said, “Well, I had offered my services as a prostitute. So. This is actually much easier than that.”

 

“When did you— Nevermind,” Allura said, shaking her head. “I suppose if we want the books by Thursday night, this is the best course of action. Fair to us. Fair to Zarkon & Rule, even if they don’t deserve fairness. The only problem is, how are we going to get Lance a job in 24 hours?”

 

“Leave that to me,” Shiro said. At Allura’s skeptical expression, he added, “And Kuron.”

 

Appeased, Allura broke up their meeting by shoving them all into the hallway. Coran wandered off to anxiously clean. Pidge sauntered back over to their reading chair, probably to hack into the Galactic Alliance for fun. Lance and Shiro stood in the shadowed back hall of The Castle, watching Kuron try to charm a middle-aged Unilu into buying a Spaceship & Antigravity Greenhouse magazine.

 

“Are you really okay with this?” Shiro asked Lance.

 

Lance, who had his arms crossed over his chest, his eyes closed, sighed.

 

“I mean, I’m not super comfy with it, but it's only three days,” Lance said. He shrugged. “Maybe in my absence Keith will figure out how to apologize like a human being.”

 

Shiro clapped a hand on the back of Lance’s neck.

 

“Do you want me talk to him?” Shiro asked.

 

Shiro was well aware how awkward Keith could be. He’d known him so long he could usually trace a problem back to the source and get Keith to realize he’d mistepped, or figure out how someone else had stepped over Keith’s often nebulous boundaries. He didn’t like to pry in Keith and Lance’s relationship, he knew they had a different way of communicating than Shiro and Keith did. But it seemed like Lance was hurting and talking to Keith was the only way Shiro could think to help.

 

“Nah,” Lance said. “Maybe. In a few days. If it doesn’t work out on its own.”

 

Shiro nodded and allowed Lance to hang from his arm as they returned to the front of the store. He was going to miss this.

 

+

 

Everything had gone according to plan.

 

The next morning, Shiro opened the store on his own. It was a quiet and maudlin Tuesday. For once, he didn’t feel sickeningly anxious about the Heroes of Voltron premiere. He wasn’t entirely confident in their plan, but he had managed four hours of sleep the night before and as a result he was in a state of denial and acceptance. 

 

He sat with his feet on the shelves behind the counter and rang up his first few customers with minimal small talk and a pleasant smile.

 

It was half past ten when Keith came running over and just about threw his phone at Shiro’s head.

 

“Lance quit and he’s working at Zarkon & Rule?!” he yelled. 

 

“Yep,” Shiro said. “When I turned down the managerial position they offered it to him.”

 

Keith looked like he wanted to either cry or stab something, knowing him, preferably both. He took a deep breath, Shiro could see that he was doing one of the calming exercises his therapist had taught him. He was probably listing his favorite ice cream flavors alphabetically, he usually went for ice cream when he didn’t want to think about knives.

 

Finally, he looked up at Shiro.

 

“Is he breaking up with me?” Keith asked.

 

Shiro’s mouth fell open. He couldn’t figure out how to tell Keith that wasn’t what was happening without telling him their entire scheme. And there were two Balmerans browsing the travel guides.

 

“Keith,” he started. 

 

“Kuron,” someone said from behind Keith.

 

Keith half-turned, revealing the woman. She was stooped over her cane and was wobbling a little, like she desperately needed a seat.

 

“Kuron?” Keith said, his confusion sweeping away his dejection.

 

She was looking at Shiro like she’d been speaking to him even though she thought for sure he was someone else. This was something Shiro was very familiar with after twenty some years of being a twin. She thought he was Kuron. But Shiro knew exactly who she was.

 

“Haggar,” he said, willing Keith to either remain quiet or leave. “What can I do for you?”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Almost done folks! Still couldn't have written this without the help of Jo or Heather. I'm so glad I wrote this for them, its been the funnest. :D
> 
> Jo made an amazing, spectacular, show stopping, incredible, one of a kind playlist for this fic! Check it out:
> 
> (https://open.spotify.com/user/1qojykniizpty39f93vtb58ep/playlist/5RzmzA8WiHZQWtg1sFnZSC?si=iBi1INhpSaWkAMWceXHQQw)

Haggar had asked for a word. Alone. So Shiro had left Keith in charge of the store and had led her to Allura’s office. 

 

Shiro thought about asking if she’d like a seat, but after considering that was something Kuron definitely wouldn’t have done, he crossed his arms and watched as she wobbled in place.

 

“What do you want Haggar?”

 

“It’s odd seeing you work here,” Haggar said, rocking over to Allura’s desk.

 

Shiro bristled as she picked up a photo of Allura with her parents. She stared at it for a moment and then dropped it face first onto the desk. Definitely not suspicious.

 

“Are you covering for your brother again? Or are you giving up your talent as a pilot to work in this dump, like him,” she asked.

 

“How did you know I was here?” Shiro asked.

 

“Lotor, obviously,” Haggar said. “You know you’re like a son to me. I worry that a place like this will squander your abilities.”

 

Shiro tried not to flinch as she passed by him and patted his shoulder. Her hands were frigid and stiff, it was like being swatted at by a corpse. Despite his best attempt to appear casual, she clearly sensed his discomfort. She sighed.

 

“I just came to see how you you were doing,” Haggar said. “Everyone always assumes the worst of me.”

 

She made for the door, fisting the handle before she jerked back. Like she’d remembered something. “Oh, by the way, while you’ve been here have you noticed if The Castle is getting any more shipments this week? Just curious. Zarkon & Rule hasn’t had any luck.”

 

Shiro almost groaned. His brother was such an idiot. A little mothering, a pat on the shoulder, some compliments, and he probably told Haggar everything he knew about everything. She probably had all the insider info on The Castle and Shiro and their Heroes of Voltron premiere. Just because his brother had the vigilance of a coat hanger. 

 

He was tempted to alert Haggar to the fact that she’d gotten the smarter brother this time, that he was on to her plan and he was going to do his best to thwart it. But then, he had a better idea.

 

“Actually, there is,” Shiro confirmed. 

 

+

 

By the time Shiro made it back to the front of the store, Haggar having left ahead of him, Keith was crouched over the counter. There was an Unilu asking for the price of a magazine, but Keith wasn’t helping them. He was carefully stroking black nail polish onto his left thumbnail. 

 

Shiro intercepted the Unilu and pointed out the price next to the title of the magazine. Once they’d wandered back to the magazine rack, Shiro leaned against the counter and watched Keith’s progress. He’d managed to only fuck up his middle and pinky finger, three out of five was impressive for him.

 

“You want some help?” Shiro asked, eyeing Lance’s nail kit upended next to Keith’s elbow.

 

Keith shrugged, casually, but shoved the bottle of polish into Shiro’s hand and presented his other hand for him with relish. Shiro was no Lance, but he did his best to make sure everything stayed in the lines, even if it did get a little lumpy. It would dry. 

 

“He wouldn’t have left this here, if he really quit,” Keith said. He shook his hands to dry his nails. “So what’s going on?”

 

“Sorry I’m late,” a voice said behind them. A figure brushed past and ducked into the back room.

 

Shiro heard the telltale sounds of someone clocking in on the employee computer, then dumping their backpack by their small microwave and water dispenser. He helped Keith put Lance’s nail kit away and looked up when the newcomer returned and took one of the seats behind the counter.

 

“What’s up?” Matt asked. “How’s it hanging?”

 

Shiro blinked and then shared a look with Keith, who was still shaking his hands and blowing on his nails. 

 

“I honestly forgot you worked here,” Shiro said.

 

“Weekend that bad?” Matt said, spinning in his chair. “Ka— Pidge told me some of it. So what’s the plan, boss?”

 

“I was just getting to that,” Shiro said. “Do you still talk to Rolo? Nyma? Are they still running that truck scam?”

 

“Truck scam?” Keith said.

 

“Of course,” Matt said, “Rolo and Nyma are, like, my best bros. After you, Shiro.”

 

Keith, still waving his hands around, managed to impart a withering look on Matt.

 

“Sharing is caring, Keith, my dude,” Matt said. “Shiro can have as many friends as he wants.”

 

“Nevermind that, listen up. Matt I’m gonna need you to call Rolo and Nyma. Keith, can you drive a hover trailer?” Shiro asked.

 

Keith shrugged. “Sure.”

 

“Great, I’ve got a plan. We’re only gonna get one shot at this and we can’t afford to mess up. I had a different plan, before, but this one seems better and less likely to get us all sent to jail.”

 

“Sounds good,” Matt said. “I can’t go back to jail.”

 

After giving them as many details as he could while there were customers milling about the store, Shiro left a detailed voicemail for Allura and texted Lance. Everyone had a role to play in the next couple days. If Shiro skipped lunch, didn’t sleep, and missed his weekly Zumba class he would probably have enough time to pull this off.

 

A customer rang the bell on the front desk and he ran to help them.

 

+

 

By closing, Shiro wanted nothing more than to sleep for twelve hours and then eat a stack of sandwiches. But he had things to do, places to be, brothers to yell at. So he let Matt leave ahead of him and started counting the cash drawers. Keith came in a little later, probably having wrapped up the pop-up booth for the night. He silently accepted a stack of twenties and started tallying them on Shiro’s crude post-it tally. 

 

His nails had dried, little flaky bits of polish that had made it onto the pads of his fingers and cuticles, clung to some of the bills when he handed them back to Shiro. 

 

Once they were done Keith offered to drive Shiro back in his hover car, so that Shiro could take a break from his prosthetic. To which Shiro heartily agreed.

 

Halfway back to Shiro’s apartment, after several minutes of comfortable silence, Keith sighed.

 

“Did he say what I did wrong?” Keith asked. “I know I’m not the best at reading people. Or sarcasm. Or puns. But I really don’t understand.”

 

Shiro mulled what to say for a moment. If he said something wrong, Keith might still misinterpret what had happened. 

 

Keith drummed his fingers nervously on the steering wheel. Shiro’s hover car was an old black Leo Major, that normally didn’t go above 60 star power without protest, but under Keith’s ministrations it was going steady at 85 sp. 

 

Shiro watched the familiar galaxies whiz by his porthole.

 

“He said he told you he wanted to get his flight certification and you laughed at him,” Shiro said.

 

Keith hands strangled the wheel. “I thought he was joking!”

 

“He said it was a very important conversation and he was hurt that you didn’t take him seriously. I know you don’t feel this way, but I think he thought you were implying that he wouldn’t pass,” Shiro said, trying to sound as impartial as possible.

 

Keith was gritting his teeth and breathing hard. A few years ago, something like this might have caused him to floor the gas and subsequently get pulled over by Galaxy Patrol. But the speedometer remained steady and Keith only needed a few settling breaths before he was calm again.

 

“He said he was going to use his cosmetology degree to get into flight school,” Keith said. “I thought it was a pun.”

 

“You what?”

 

“I thought he was making one of those punny jokes he likes so much, about cosmetology,” Keith said. “I must have misheard or misread— whatever. If I really thought he wanted to go to the Academy with me I would have been excited. He’s smart, he’s good at everything, he can do anything he wants. I’d be happy if he wanted to do something with me.”

 

“You should tell him that,” Shiro said. Inside, he was thinking how dumb both of them were. Four days of silence and fighting over a misinterpreted pun. Lance owed him so many manicures, it wasn’t even funny.

 

Except, it was, a little. And as Shiro chuckled about it, Keith found it within himself to join. 

 

+

 

The next twenty-four hours went by in a blur. A customer demanded a copy of Make Way For Kaltenecker in color, even though it had only ever been printed in black and white. Five different people wandered in, asked where their Bible section was, made sure for themselves that it was there and then immediately left. A dozen people asked for a bathroom, even though they had several signs indicating that they did not have a public restroom. A woman offered Matt a gallon of milk to use their “private” restroom and Matt reluctantly declined. A Unilu called Allura a bitch for informing them that, as a bookstore, they did not sell soda. 

 

By the time Thursday night approached Shiro had slept only four hours in a row for two nights, his prosthetic hurt more than it helped, he’d had words with his brother several times, in person, on the phone, and through text, to the point where a thoroughly chastened Kuron had skipped flight practice two days in a row to buy him a lunch he hadn’t had the chance to eat, and now, this. He was staring down 30 cartons of Slav’s Brief History of Paranoia, wondering if it would be worth it to set them all aflame and launch them into space. He sighed. Probably better to stick to the plan. 

 

Nyma had dropped the truck off earlier, parking in on The Castle’s loading dock. Now all Shiro had to do was load it, hand the keys off to Keith, and wait. An hour later, he’d done exactly that. His shoulders hurt like hell and he had thought of nothing but one of Hunk’s veggie wraps since he’d started, but now he had a long night of sitting in the store and waiting for a confirmation text from Keith. Keith, who he’d only just managed to disarm and talk out of wearing a bandana across his face for his “mission.”

 

Man, Shiro was tired.

 

Just as he’d thought this he heard a crash from the front of the store.

 

“What now,” Shiro muttered. He walked towards the front still wearing his The Castle apron, covered in sweat and space dust. “Matt? What’s going on?”

 

Once he’d made it into the store itself it was patently obvious what was wrong. 

 

Lotor was standing in the middle of the store, holding Lance tightly by the arm. Matt was standing behind the counter with his hands up placatingly. Two of their displays were strewn across the floor in a glittery heap.

 

“You thought you could leave a spy in my midst and I wouldn’t notice?” Lotor was yelling. 

 

Shiro couldn’t stop looking at where his long nails were leaving dents in Lance’s arm. Lance looked more annoyed than anything, but he winced everytime Lotor gestured around the store. 

 

“Here I am, going about my day, an exemplary citizen of this galactic space hard at work. When I see this little rat,” he shook Lance some more, “sneaking into my mother’s private office.”

 

“I told you, I was lost—”

 

“It’s okay Lance,” Shiro said. He crossed his arms and looked up at Lotor. “First of all, get your hand off him.”

 

Lotor watched him for a startled second and then looked to where his fingernails were piercing Lance’s skin. He shoved Lance away from him and Lance ducked behind the counter with Matt. 

 

“Second of all, Lotor, Haggar has been stealing Heroes of Voltron books from stores like ours all across the galaxy,” Shiro said. “Lance left The Castle because we can’t afford two booksellers right now, because of all the stealing. He was probably trying to figure out how Haggar was getting away it, he has a naturally curious predisposition.”

 

“It’s true,” Lance said.

 

Before Lotor could protest, Shiro said, “And before you say that’s a lie, I have a recording of her admitting to her crimes to me yesterday. I’ll be bringing it before the Space Mall Police after the premiere.”

 

Lotor’s face was flushed a deep purple, his eyes flashed gold in the hazy fluorescent lights, and there was real steam coming out of his ears. Galra were an interesting species.

 

“Do whatever you wish with the recording, my lawyers will be hearing about this,” Lotor said. He spun on his heel and stalked away from The Castle.

 

All was quiet for a moment and then Lance started laughing. He was doubled over on the counter with tears streaming from his eyes, when he said, “do you think he’s read Harry Potter?”

 

This brought Matt and Shiro into the fold, all three of them laughing hysterically until the mall’s overhead lights flashed signalling shoppers had to leave for the night. 

 

Pidge peeked out from behind the Science Fiction section. 

 

“Pidge!” Matt yelled. “Is that where you’ve been for the past few days?”

 

“We’ve been feeding them,” Shiro reassured him.

 

“Is it done?” Pidge asked. 

 

Shiro checked his cellphone, where a lone knife emoji was his latest text from Keith. 

 

“Uh. I think so.”

 

“Great, Matt take me home. I haven’t slept in sixty-eight hours.” Pidge disappeared right back behind the shelf.

 

Having assured Shiro he would be back in time for the premiere, Matt dragged Pidge home in a haze of friendly bickering. After they left, Shiro led Lance back to Allura’s office to inspect his arm.

 

“It’s really fine,” Lance said. The indents from Lotor’s nails were already fading. “That bastard just needs to stop filing his nails to points.”

 

Shiro watched him for a moment. He looked tired and drawn. He was wearing the Zarkon & Rule standard uniform and all that purple was not a good look on him. It made the bags under his eyes pop, despite the foundation Shiro knew he must be wearing.

 

“Thanks,” Shiro said. “For what you did. You didn’t have to and we all really appreciate it.”

 

“Yeah, well,” Lance said, flushing. “Once this is over you owe me seven paid vacation days and a spa trip.”

 

“Done.” Shiro laughed.

 

“Did you— uh, talk to Keith?” Lance asked. “About what happened?”

 

“I did,” Shiro said. “I laughed at him a lot, for what it's worth. You really need to talk, after this is over.”

 

“Will do,” Lance said, smiling a little.

 

There was a knock on the door of the loading dock. Shiro and Lance went out to open the door for Keith, who was wearing the bandana across his face. He pulled it down and grinned at them.

 

“That was almost too easy,” Keith said. 

 

“Really?” Lance said. “You call working at Zarkon & Rule easy? You call enduring grueling shifts where I did basically everything while overseeing the bots Pidge reprogrammed to switch Haggar’s stock around easy? You call figuring out which, out of thousands of cartons, were psychology textbooks and which were our books without opening them easy? Then waiting to make sure you made the drop point so they’d switch Slav’s Paranoia Whatever with the Heroes of Voltron instead of  _ more  _ Slav’s Paranoia while being held captive by Lotor,  _ easy _ ?”

 

“Lotor held you captive?” Keith said. 

 

Shiro was glad he’d confiscated the knives. He managed to coax the both of them into helping unload the stock. Then, the moment of truth. He crouched in front of a carton and slashed the tape. There, instead of Slav’s greasy awkward selfie cover, was a glossy hardcover of Heroes of Voltron: The Deathly Quintessence. Sven graced the foreground, sword crossed with Daibazaal’s, while Princess Romelle was on the ground behind them, handcuffed to a foreboding timer.

 

Finally.

 

Shiro was so relieved, he almost laid down on the ground and went to sleep. Unfortunately there was plenty more work to do.

 

“Now, the hard part,” Shiro said. “The premiere.”


	6. Chapter 6

From Allura’s office they procured a long table and unfolded it next to the counter. Then they arranged tall stacks of Heroes of Voltron on top of and below the table. Under no delusions that there would be a single box unneeded, they put the leftover stock behind the counter and in the back hall. Ready to grab when the time came. Then, they dug out the assorted merchandise Allura had ordered for the occasion and set up stands with Heroes of Voltron bayards, Heroes of Voltron armor, and Heroes of Voltron miniature lions. By this time, Matt was back with Allura and Coran in tow. They helped finish decorating the store front with banners celebrating the premiere.

It was nearing midnight when Shiro looked up and saw the flocks of people waiting for them. Mall security had brought out stanchions with rope that they used for special events like this and were now patrolling the line on their Segways.

Allura put a hand on Shiro’s shoulder and he looked over at her.

“I just wanted to say,” she paused, looking over the crowd as she searched for the right words.  “I know I’ve been busy with training and as a result you’ve tackled this almost all on your own. At this point I wouldn’t have a store without you, I can’t thank you enough.”

“I should apologize,” Shiro said. “It was my fault this happened in the first place. If I hadn’t told my brother— If I hadn’t assumed he was—”

Allura shook her head. “That’s not your fault. Haggar would have found a way to get our books, Kuron or no Kuron.”

She clapped Shiro’s shoulder once, hard. “Now. Let’s get this over with.”

Shiro winced, surveying the line again. Many people towards the front were waving Alfor’s handwritten VIP passes. He took a deep breath. This was going to be a long night. 

+

Four hours, 120 VIP passes, 300 books, five tired employees and one tired Keith later, the store was closed, the registers were counted and everyone had gone home except Shiro, Keith, and Lance; who were in a heap in Allura’s office. Lance and Keith were sitting against the wall, shoulder to shoulder, Shiro sprawled across Lance’s lap, with his head against Keith’s knee due to a brief struggle in which Keith had wrestled Shiro out of his prosthetic ten minutes ago. None of them had moved since. 

Keith’s hand was brushing Shiro’s hair out of his decidedly closed eyes. Lance was kneading Shiro’s sore shoulder. Shiro might have fallen asleep then and there but his friend’s voices kept drawing him back to the office. 

“So you’re telling me, that we haven’t spoken for nearly a week because you thought I was making a pun?” Lance said, for the umpteenth time.

“How many times can I say I’m sorry until you believe me?” Keith asked.

“A few more times.”

“Well, I’m sorry. Going to the academy together would be amazing. I wouldn’t have to worry about not seeing you for six months at a time. And if we were on the same squad— Well. You’re one of the only people I’d trust to have my back.”

Lance’s hand paused on Shiro’s shoulder, he’d been slipping back to sleep but the lack of movement brought him back to consciousness.

“Maybe Shiro can come with us,” Lance said. “I know he quit his squad. He never talks about it, but maybe if he was in a squad with us, he’d—”

“What do you mean?” Keith asked.

“Didn’t he quit because he was in an accident or something? I heard Allura talking about it.”

“Nope, this asshole just got bored,” Keith said, poking Shiro’s cheek with a sharp nail.

Shiro frowned and squeezed his eyes shut tighter, trying to will his brain to sleep.

“Bored?” Lance asked. “Allura made it sound so dramatic, like maybe someone had been transphobic or hurt him or— I might have been planning ways to find whoever did it and kick their ass.”

“I think Shiro just gets a thrill out making people wonder why he left. Like it was some big dramatic thing.” Keith sighed. 

Shiro could tell Keith was shaking his head. 

“One day, a few years ago, he had just graduated early, top of his class. They’d sent him on this big mission to Kerberos—”

“Kerberos? Kerberos-Kerberos? That space rock everyone was fighting on exploring rights for? The one they only sent three elite officers to survey?”

“Yup. They sent this asshole. And everything went fine and six months later he comes back and everyone in the galaxy is offering him spots on their missions, calling him a prodigy. Then he quit. He came over to my place, said he wasn’t being challenged enough and was bored. Next thing I know he’s working at The Castle while he decides what his life’s purpose is or whatever.”

“A prodigy, huh?”

“Lance. Why are you making that face?”

“Nothing. No reason. Just sure would be nice to have a prodigy in our squad.”

“Did you not hear a thing I just said?”

“I heard you say he wasn’t being challenged enough. I am plenty challenging, just by existing,” Lance said. 

“He’s never gonna go for it,” Keith said. “But if you can get him to join our squad, I can’t say I’d complain.”

“Just wait,” Lance proclaimed. “One day soon, it’s gonna you, me, Shiro, Hunk, Pidge, Allura, and Shay. Our own ship. Tackling challenging, dangerous missions in the final frontier.”

“Stop flirting with me. Shiro is right here.” Keith poked Shiro’s cheek again. “And he’s awake.”

“M’not awake,” Shiro protested.

“We should probably leave soon, or we’ll fall asleep,” Lance said, on a yawn.

They did fall asleep. Curled on the floor. Covered in glitter and price stickers. When Allura found them in the morning, she roused them with coffee and donuts and sent them home. Heroes of Voltron was officially published, in the hands of fans all over the galaxy. 

Finally, The Castle’s booksellers could rest.

\+   NINE MONTHS LATER  +

Shiro sat behind the counter with his head in his hand. He was bored.

Haggar’s book swapping scam had been uncovered by the Galactic Alliance. Who had seen the sheer amount of money in her bank account and promptly given her a slap on the wrist. Zarkon & Rule though, was shut down. Haggar was prohibited from selling books in galactic space for the next ten thousand decaphebes. She would probably be at it again around her thirty thousandth birthday.

Keith and Lance had left for the academy six months ago and were due back for a visit soon. They’d finish their certifications in another six months and be temporarily assigned to a squad with a senior officer. If they had a preference in senior officer, they had to submit an application and wait to see if they’d be accepted.

Hunk was still making excellent veggie wraps at Vrepit Sal’s, proven by Shiro’s recently finished lunch. 

Pidge was, for once, not in a reading chair, but curled in the seat beside Shiro at the counter. After Lance left, Matt had offered up Pidge as a replacement. Pidge, too busy coding to protest, had sealed their own fate. 

Allura had finished her courses at the academy around the time Keith and Lance had started. She was now hanging around the store far too often, restless and bored, as she waited to hear back about her squad applications. 

Currently she was rearranging a holiday display by the store entrance that she had redone a dozen times.

Shiro knew pointing this out to her would just make her take it down and start again in a different part of the store, so he said nothing. 

The Castle had been busier lately, now that Zarkon & Rule had been remodeled into a Space Ikea, the only choices Space Mall patrons had for reasonably priced books were either The Castle or the online intergalactic retailer Spamazon. And everyone knew Spamazon was evil. 

Even with the influx of customers it was a quiet, Tuesday afternoon. 

Just as he was settling in to take a light nap Shiro was startled awake by two hands clamping down on his shoulders. His stool fell behind him as he startled into a standing position. When he opened his eyes Lance’s face was inches from his own. Lance was wearing his academy uniform. It was freshly ironed, sat well on his shoulders, and was matched by the one Keith was wearing just a few feet away.

They were both looking at him with sly smiles.

“Hey Shiro,” Lance said. “I heard you were looking for a challenge.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One last time, just want to thank Jo and Heather for reading and encouraging and humoring my endless Space Mall talk. And thank you everyone who took the time to read this, it was incredibly self-indulgent and fun to write. One day there will be a prequel! 
> 
> Until then, thank you. Hope you enjoyed. :)

**Author's Note:**

> :)


End file.
